


we're growing older, but we're all soldiers tonight

by sleeponrooftops



Series: angel with a shotgun [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelcest, Angst, Fluff, Language, M/M, Oil Gland Kink, Sexual Content, Violence, Wing Kink, angels and demons working together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-05 21:04:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeponrooftops/pseuds/sleeponrooftops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>III in angel with a shotgun series.</i>  Home isn’t just his brother and the Impala anymore, it’s so much larger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're growing older, but we're all soldiers tonight

**Author's Note:**

> A few small discrepancies —
> 
> i. Again, and I’m only putting this here again to avoid comments about it, I know Lucifer isn’t the youngest of the four archangels, but, for convenience’s sake (and for the sake of adorable stories), he is in this.
> 
> ii. Just a reminder, I made an executive decision and relocated from South Dakota to Minnesota for various reasons (a, waterfront houses lead to stupid domesticity, b, shout out to the best people in the world, Adam Young and Grace Brisbane, c, I didn’t want the boys to be separate from Bobby, d, because I can), so I hope no one hates. Also, on that note, I don’t know anything about anything, so I just make up things. Helen’s, though, is an actual restaurant; it just exists in Concord, MA, and it’s a diner, so oops.
> 
> iii. Putting this here because it’s made for midway through the story, but there’s a—scene. I don’t want to give it away, but it involves Lucifer and some demons, and I needed something specific to listen to while I was writing it, so I made this mix, [shenanigans](http://www.mediafire.com/download.php?x53jsf2n3lydd03), and I figured I’d put it up front so you can give it a listen. The scene starts when they get back from their Valentine’s Day extravaganza.

_February 10, 2012._

_One year later._

 

Sam smirks as Dean chucks a pillow at his head.  “ _Seriously_?” his brother moans while Gabriel explains to Michael what the tickets mean in overly excited and clipped sentences.  “This is _the gayest_ thing you’ve done.  Ever.  In your _entire_ life.”

 

“That time I baked heart cupcakes when you were sick.  You were fourteen.”

 

Dean just glares at him.  Castiel sighs suddenly, giving up trying to understand Gabriel.  “ _The Lion King_ is a film, correct?” he asks, and Sam nods while Dean tries to smother himself with another pillow.

 

“This is the musical form of it, live, like—with real people in costumes on a stage.”  Castiel nods appreciatively.

 

“Where is Lucifer?” Gabriel asks as he finishes with Michael and turns to everyone else.

 

Sam withdraws into himself, seeking out the soft thrum of the archangel’s grace, always connected to him, through the thumbprint on his hip and through a bond so ancient, no one but God truly understands it.  When he comes back, it’s only been a few seconds, but his body is vibrating with energy and power.  “East India,” he says, and Dean whistles.

 

“Dude, seriously, that is still the coolest thing ever,” he says for the hundredth time before proceeding to wine to Cas about being able to do that.

 

It’s a frustrating conversation Sam’s heard too many times, and so he goes to prepare the kitchen at a soft touch of grace.  Michael follows him from the living room, seating himself at the island.  Despite Dean being his true vessel, he’s drawn to Sam, continually curious about what makes him _Sam_ , the human that loved the devil.  “What do you think?” Sam asks as he fills a pot with water.

 

“I think it sounds fascinating.  Gabriel seems to enjoy them.”

 

“I’m sure you will, too.  It’s fun.  I’ve only been to a few plays before, when I was at Stanford.  Jess liked them.”  It slips out before Sam even realizes what he’s saying, and he sets the pot on the burner, frowning.  Jess.  It’s been a long time since he thought about her.

 

Michael gives him a moment to think before speaking again, “So, this is for Valentine’s Day?  Is that why Dean is being so stubborn?”

 

“Partly,” Sam laughs, “It’s going to be an interesting night.  How’s India?” he adds to the rustle of wings.

 

“Spicy,” Lucifer replies, coming over with his backpack to deposit various ingredients onto the counter.  The six of them take turns cooking, and the archangels are always a little exotic, if only because they can.  “Very loud and colorful,” he continues, reaching up to kiss Sam’s cheek, “I had to convince a rather interesting woman that I wasn’t a _demonic worshipper_ just because I didn’t have any _battle scars_.  It appears I was in a rather violent area.”

 

“Please tell me you didn’t bust out your wings just to prove her wrong,” Sam teases, going to sit in Michael’s now-abandoned seat at the island.

 

“She thought they were fascinating.  I’m kidding,” he adds to Sam’s tense silence.

 

“Did you at least pay this time?”

 

“You’ve been asking me that for the better part of a year, and the answer has been yes for the last half of that.”

 

“Okay, well, when I went with you to Japan that time, you killed a demon as payment.”

 

“ _That_ is something you should approve of.”

 

“ _Anyway_.”  Lucifer shoots him a grin over his shoulder.  “What are you making?”

 

“Surprise.”

 

“Of course it is,” Sam sighs, “Tell me about India.”

 

They spend the next two hours talking about their days, and Sam watches Lucifer cook, helping sometimes but mostly just getting in the way until Lucifer is pinning him against the counter and kissing him breathless.  “Stop,” Lucifer murmurs when he pulls back, but, before he can step away, Sam fists a hand in his hair, tilting his head back and fusing their mouths together.  He lifts his hips to meet the archangel’s, molding them together.  Lucifer succumbs, hands sliding up Sam’s arms until they grip tight, fingers biting into flesh.  “ _Sam_ ,” he groans as his human breaks away and rocks against him slowly.

 

“Your rice is going to burn,” Sam says, kissing him lightly before sliding out from underneath him.  Lucifer remains still for only a moment, understanding Sam’s actions, before he goes to his food.  Sam listens for the feel of his grace as he gets plates to set the table, and it’s a careful mask of peace that makes Sam smirk.  This should be fun.

 

\--

 

Teasing the devil had never been something Sam thought he would attempt.

 

And yet, here he is, crammed in the living room with Dean, Cas, Michael, and Gabriel, watching some shoot ‘em up Dean was excited about, the lights off, and he’s all flittering hands and hot touches.  He’s pressed into the corner of the couch, one leg bent up against the back with Lucifer between his legs, back to chest, forehead resting against his jaw, and he’s tracing slow circles in his hips with one hand, the other threaded lazily through his blonde hair.

 

They’re all dressed for bed, either in sweats or pajamas, and it’s a sight Sam doesn’t see often on his angel, as he’s usually naked or just in boxer briefs when they sleep.  Very rarely does he take the time to actually put on something night-appropriate.  Sam takes complete advantage, though, fingers occasionally dipping just below the waistband of his black sweats.  He knows he’s hard, can feel it in the vibrations of his body, but it only makes him want to keep this up even more.

 

The movie finishes before they can get to anything good, and Dean flops obnoxiously all over Castiel, who smiles fondly and flicks his ear in response.  After that, they all head upstairs, and the teasing is brought to a whole new level.  Lucifer grabs his book from the nightstand and curls up on the bed, eyes flickering over to watch Sam head over to the bathroom.  He gets ready for bed, brushing his teeth and washing his face, before he retreats back into the room, leaning against the doorframe.  “Hey,” he says softly, but Lucifer doesn’t look up, “Ignoring me now?”

 

“I’m reading,” he says evenly, turning the page with a slow drag of his fingers.

 

Sam smiles, shaking his head before he pushes away from the frame and goes over to the bed.  He straddles Lucifer’s lap, leaning back so that he still has room to hold his book.  “When did you start reading more contemporary literature?” he asks, rubbing his hands up Lucifer’s thighs, settling high near his hips and digging his thumbs into the hard muscle there.

 

Lucifer looks up from Atonement, arching an eyebrow before looking back down.  “I don’t _only_ read things from long ago,” he comments, and Sam laughs softly as his sweatpants suddenly disappear, both his and Lucifer’s.  He rubs a circle along his hipbone with his thumb, watching for any reaction _at all_ from the archangel, but all he gets is the hard curve of his cock, matching his own.

 

“I know you want me,” he whispers, dropping a kiss on the hand holding the book, “You’ve been  thinking about me since the kitchen earlier.”

 

“I have not,” Lucifer replies calmly.

 

“You have.  You think you can put up a mask and project indifference, but I know you.”

 

“Oh?  You do?”  Lucifer looks over the rim of his book, and Sam can see the challenge in his eyes.

 

“Mm, I do.”  He maneuvers backward, moving just outside of Lucifer’s line of sight, and he can see him shift the tiniest bit to try to glimpse him again, but then Sam’s dipping his head down, and the muscles in the devil’s thighs jump and twitch when he lays a wet kiss on his dick.  “Read to me,” Sam whispers, exhaling, breath hot against his always cool skin.

 

Lucifer obeys, lips parting as a flow of beautiful words tumbles out, words Sam has never heard before, and they sound so exquisite, so entrancing that Sam thinks he might actually read Atonement when all this is said and done.  He drags his tongue up the underside of Lucifer’s aching cock, kisses the head, and then moves to his hip, nipping sharply so that his stomach caves in with the intake of breath, but he keeps on reading, flow unbroken.  He’s _trying_ to give Sam a challenge, and he makes it his goal to break him down into pieces tonight.

 

He bites again, the hollow right above the bone, and he sucks, tongue darting out to soothe and taste.  Lucifer stumbles briefly over a word, and Sam flicks his eyes up, sees how his free hand is flexing spasmodically in the sheets.  He kisses the new hickey wetly when he’s finished, and then he tightens his shiny mouth over the head of Lucifer’s cock, sucking once, hard, and he groans, the words stopping midway through a sentence.  He swallows him down slowly, taking as much as he can, lips tight and wet, tongue curling around his hard length as he goes, and Lucifer leaves the sheets to card through Sam’s hair, not gripping but not petting, either.  Sam bobs his head, drawing back up, and he pulls off with a wet pop, leaning up into Lucifer’s hand, who responds by pressuring the pads of his fingers against his skull, and Sam moans softly, eyes slipping shut for a moment.  When he opens them again, he looks up, tongue slipping out to dart over his bottom lip, and Lucifer watches the movement with hungry eyes.

 

“Everything okay?” he asks softly, and the archangel stares at him for a moment longer before Sam’s being manhandled into his lap, the book is arcing through the air to crash against the wall, and Lucifer is fusing their mouths together in a fierce, fast, hot kiss.  Sam pulls his legs up, grinding their cocks together, fisting one hand in the back of Lucifer’s hair and tugging until he lets his head dip back.  Sam drops his mouth to his throat, kissing his way down until the curve melts into shoulder, and he bites there.  Lucifer makes an inhuman noise, fingers searing against Sam’s hips, thumb slotting into place, and he presses a little too hard, Sam knows he’ll have bruises there for weeks, but he loves it.  He’s tearing him apart, making him forget just what exactly he is, breaking him down into a primitive, animalistic thing.

 

Sam pulls away from his second hickey, tongue lapping over it even as he nips at the back of Lucifer’s neck.  His breath leaves him in a gasp when he’s suddenly pinned on his back, and he knows they haven’t teleported because he can feel the rush of air under him as Lucifer guides them, slamming Sam into the mattress _hard_ , seeking out his mouth again.  Sam protests, tightening his legs around Lucifer’s waist and pushing with all his strength.  It should be impossible, but Lucifer lets him, lets them roll until Sam’s on top, straightening and yanking off his t-shirt.  Lucifer scrambles to do the same, tossing it haphazardly away from them before they’re molding together again, Lucifer curling one hand around the back of Sam’s neck and the other biting into his bicep, a low groan falling from his lips.

 

And then, before Sam realizes what’s happening, Lucifer is pushing up, cinching Sam’s legs around him, pushing back, and Sam tries to resist, tries to get him back on the bed, but Lucifer is an _archangel_ , and he forces Sam onto his back, taking his wrists in one hand and pushing them up above his head.  So Sam arches up, brings them together, draws Lucifer down, and he bites at his lower lip, teases his jaw with his teeth until the grip loosens, and he slips one hand out, curls it around to Lucifer’s back, and digs his nails into his shoulder blade, teasing the tightened muscles.

 

Lucifer knows exactly what he’s doing, and he releases Sam’s other wrist, letting his hand find the other blade.  “Show me what you are,” Sam whispers into Lucifer’s neck before he kisses down to his collarbone and bites there.  Lucifer trembles, pressing Sam into the bed again and rocking their hips together.

 

“Close your eyes.”

 

“No.”

 

Lucifer panics, pulling away from Sam’s mouth, looking for his eyes.  Sam digs his fingers in, moves his left hand to his spine, presses his thumb hard, drops his right hand to fist over Lucifer’s cock, tight and hot as he pulls, thumb pressing into the head, at the bundle of nerves just beneath the crown, and Lucifer moans deep in his chest, forehead dropping to Sam’s.  “Sam, you can’t.”

 

“I have before.”

 

Lucifer stares at him, out of focus because he’s so close, and Sam cants his hips upward, presses his fingers harder into his back, and then the room is exploding in white.  It isn’t blinding like it should be, wasn’t the first time he watched Lucifer’s grace leak out into a world where it didn’t belong, so far away.  His wrist sears where he was branded by the devil, and he takes in all of it, eyes fixed on Lucifer’s ethereal blue, seeing everything.

 

His wings snap into physical shape, gargantuan, taking up the entire room, drowning them in a hazy, dim glow that makes everything golden and beautiful, just like his grace.  They crash against the ceiling, feathers ruffled and aroused, and the room explodes with the smell of ocean and the breeze.  Sam groans at it, at all of it, both hands stretching high to grip tight.  “Hold on,” Lucifer whispers, and Sam does so, legs tight around him and fingers tight in his wings.

 

They beat once, twice, _hard_ , scattering papers and books and things everywhere, and Sam’s sure the whole house is going to be freaking out over the noise, but then he’s being filled, stretched by grace and warmth, Lucifer’s cock disappearing into him.  They’re pressed close together, Lucifer’s back against the headboard, and his wings pull together, encasing them in darkness, and Sam is so hot, burning with hellfire, and he moans, desperate for Lucifer’s mouth.  They kiss furiously, tongues dancing, and they fuck the same way, holding tight and chasing each other.

 

It feels so much like that first time ever, the only light between them that of their eyes and their grace and soul, brilliant and shining, dark, black feathers whispering over Sam’s skin, alighting every one of his nerves.  Every moment is a climax, and he knows he’s wound deeper than he’s ever been with Lucifer, closer than any human being has ever been to an angel.

 

“Sam,” Lucifer says against his ear, breathless, his hands searing against Sam’s hips and back as he thrusts shallowly, keeps Sam filled, brings him so close to the edge.

 

“I’m yours,” Sam says before Lucifer can speak again, and he doesn’t know how he knows, but he just does.

 

He can barely breathe.  He’s suffocating, drowning, and he thinks this is what claiming feels like between angels.  He’s already been claimed, the second he first dragged his hand down his chest, soaked in Lucifer’s oil, but this, this is different, this is something he shouldn’t be able to experience, and it’s overwhelming and amazing all at once.

 

Something fuses inside him, binds him, explodes, and his whole body is shaking, tingling, alive.  He pushes himself straight against Lucifer’s body, and he can feel every wound, every crack, every ache in his grace, can see every memory, every doubt, every passion.  He reaches out for it, hangs onto it, and Lucifer holds him physically and internally, keeps him together as he rips apart, as he watches the devil fall in the same way, and he curls his hands around his jaw, kisses him long and slow, holds him together.

 

When he breaks apart, he’s panting and aching.  He groans softly, burying his face in Lucifer’s neck as the angel strokes a hand up and down his back slowly.  “Are you okay?” Lucifer asks after a moment, pressing a kiss to Sam’s ear.

 

“Yeah,” he says, “Yeah, I’m okay.  You?”

 

“Yes,” Lucifer responds, shifting, and he slips out of Sam, who allows himself to be carefully manhandled, lowered onto his back on the bed where he exhales slowly and watches Lucifer get off the bed, wings folding around him, like he needs protection.

 

“Hey,” Sam says, pushing himself up onto an elbow as Lucifer stops by the window and stares out of it.  “Lucifer,” he says when he doesn’t respond, “What’s wrong?”

 

He starts to sit up and move toward the edge of the bed, but Lucifer shakes his head, and he stops, frowning.  He sits there for nearly three minutes of silence before Lucifer turns, wings still drawn around him.  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, gaze meeting Sam’s, “That was—it was a little much.  I hadn’t predicted what that would dredge up.”

 

“What exactly did you do?”

 

“Something that shouldn’t be possible, but, then again, you shouldn’t be able to see my grace.”

 

“You said oil was a form of claiming.  I assume the bonding of graces is another?”

  
“The highest.”

 

“So, did we just bond your grace and my soul?”

 

“Yes,” he pauses, watching Sam’s face closely, “Is that okay?”

 

Sam gets off the bed this time, and, when he reaches Lucifer, he puts a light hand on his wing, drawing it back so that he can step inside.  It immediately curls around him, and he winds his arms around the angel, pulling them together.  “I love you,” he whispers, “In every way.  Yes, it’s okay,” he adds when Lucifer still doesn’t relax, “It’s very okay.”

 

Lucifer lets out a little laugh, soft and relieved, before returning the embrace, and they stay like that for a few moments, just enjoying one another.

 

“Are you tired?” Lucifer asks when Sam pulls away, kissing his forehead.

 

“A little, yeah.  That was pretty intense,” he admits, and Lucifer smiles.

 

“Would you like to sleep?”

 

“Maybe in a little bit.  I gotta pee right now, though.”  Lucifer releases him, wings folding behind him, and he watches him go, waiting a beat before he heads over to the bed, stretching onto his back.  He can see Sam’s reflection in the mirror through the open door, and he smiles, gaze shifting to the window as he lets his wings unfurl and expand fully, draped lazily across the floor, pushing against the walls and even curving up them a bit.  They’re long, too, covering nearly half the room, and Lucifer relishes in the soft brush of the shag rug and the freedom to let them go, unbound and _his_.

 

“What are you, a cat?” Sam teases, and Lucifer opens his eyes blearily, blinking to focus.  Sam crawls onto the bed, kneeling at the end.  “Will it hurt if I…” he trails off, motioning to his wing-covered side of the bed, and Lucifer chuckles.

 

“Humans don’t have the ability to physically harm wings.  Only through powerful magic and either demonic or angelic strength can you do any damage.  Though I cannot promise it won’t be arousing.”

 

Sam rolls his eyes before he stretches out carefully over the left wing, sighing.  He curls around the archangel, foot teasing his as he rests his head on his shoulder, a sliver of space between them where he pets the soft, _soft_ feathers beneath him.

 

“Can I ask you something?” he asks after a while of silence, eyes fixed on Lucifer’s right wing, which rises and falls minutely as he breathes.  He rumbles affirmation, lazy and easy.   “Do you know where Jess’ soul is?”  Lucifer’s fingers continue tracing slow patterns across Sam’s side for a few minutes where his arm is curled around his back before he sighs.  No answer follows, though, and Sam frowns, threading his fingers through Lucifer’s feathers and tugging lightly.  Lucifer grunts, hand flattening and applying a small amount of pressure.

 

“Heaven,” he says after a moment.  He pulls on Sam’s side until he looks up.  “I didn’t know.  I was looking.  Why did you ask?”

 

Sam shrugs, looking to his wing again.  “I just—mentioned her today, and I hadn’t thought about her in a long time, and it’s just—weird.  I never thought to wonder about it.  Sometimes it’s just—weird, I dunno.”

 

“It’s okay to think about her.”  Sam looks up at this.  “You loved her.  I imagine you still do.”

 

“Do you—do you still love Michael?”

 

“I love each of my brothers very much, but yes, there will always be a stronger bond between Michael and me.”

 

Sam nods before he leans forward to kiss Lucifer softly.  “Arousing, hm?” he says when he pulls back, and Lucifer smirks.

 

“I warned you.”

 

Sam drops back into a comfortable position again, hand petting through his feathers once more, and they stay like that for some time.  He has his eyes closed, just cherishing the feeling of Lucifer’s wings and his body heat, and so the muffled moan takes him by surprise.  He blinks up in time to see Lucifer turn his head away, breath ragged, and then he looks down, smirking.  He continues dragging his fingers through the feathers, licking his lips at the sight of Lucifer, hard and wanting, curved up against his belly, and Sam lets his hand drift closer and closer to his back until he’s tracing along the muscled skin there, and Lucifer knows exactly what he wants because he arches just a little, just enough that Sam can slip two fingers beneath him and seek out his gland.

 

“Touch yourself,” Sam commands, his voice hoarse, when Lucifer groans again, soft and bitten-back, muscles tightening and trembling.  Lucifer lets out a fast breath at the order, turning his head again, and Sam looks up, staring right back at him.  The archangel nods.

 

He’s unsure, and Sam kisses encouragement along his arm.  “Like you do with me,” he murmurs, reaching his shoulder and nipping lightly.  Lucifer twists his wrist, tightens his grip, pulls up and swipes at the head with his thumb, slicking his dick with precome.  He shivers at the movement, sighing.  “Good?”

 

“Yeah,” he manages, turning his head and nosing at Sam’s temple until he tilts his head up and lets Lucifer steal his breath, tongue fast and hot.  Sam’s fingers are slick and warm, and he threads his fingers through the downy feathers at the base of his wings, strokes them soft and then fists tight.  Lucifer keens, breaking away from the kiss and bowing off the bed.  His cock disappears in the circle of his hand in quick strokes, eager, and Sam shifts, trying to ignore his own growing erection.

 

“Sam,” Lucifer pants.  His wings flutter suddenly, scattering papers everywhere, _again_ ,and then they beat harder, buffeting wind, and the room smells overwhelmingly like the sea where Sam had gotten used to it.  It drives Sam nearly mad, and he releases his hold on the feathers so that he can push himself up, swinging one leg over Lucifer and straddling his hips.  The angel looks up at him curiously, the movement of his hand stilling.

 

“Keep going,” he breathes, bending over to kiss Lucifer, slow and lazy.  He rocks against him, cock filling against the rub of Lucifer’s hand, hip, dick, skin, and he doesn’t know how he does this to him, keeps him wanting more and more and _more_.

 

Lucifer cants his hips upward, seeking friction from Sam, who groans low in response, straightening away.  Lucifer’s wings flutter underneath him, spread out, and Sam fists a hand over his cock, using the other to dig in his black feathers again, grip tight and hard.  Lucifer moans, head tipping back, and Sam’s wrist flicks quick, matching Lucifer’s pace.

 

One wing snaps suddenly, pulling up, and Sam gasps as he feels the sharp edge of the end of it stroke up his spine, digging slightly into his lower back, and it nearly pushes him over the edge.  “ _Sam_ ,” Lucifer groans, thighs trembling, and he trips over the edge, body locking up as he pushes upward.  Sam has to tighten his legs in response to keep himself steady as Lucifer comes in long strands across his stomach, mouth dropped open in a groan and eyes shut tight.  He strokes himself right through it, milks it, and it’s the way his hips twitch back down to the bed, another, softer moan leaving him on an exhale, hand slipping to Sam’s thigh, fingers digging in, that sends Sam over, has him falling forward, free hand catching on the bed, and he finishes over his hand and Lucifer, head hanging and body shaking.

 

He stays there for a few moments, coming down, finding his breath, and, when he straightens, Lucifer flicks a few lazy fingers, and they’re clean.  Sam slides off onto his back, and Lucifer curls around him, head landing on his chest and right wing draping over them.  He hits the lights with another flick, and they don’t even need the blankets with his beautiful, magnificent, massive wings to keep them safe and warm.

 

\--

 

_February 12, 2012._

 

“This is _so_ unnecessary.”  Sam looks up at Dean’s voice, smirking as the woman tugs on his jacket.

 

“It’s not unnecessary,” Michael says, coming out from behind the curtain and smoothing his hands down his front.  He looks into the mirror, and the boys never thought it possible, but angels have the capability to be vain.  “You both will look very presentable,” he goes on, “It’s much better than those tacky suits you’re always wearing.”

 

Castiel makes a soft noise of amusement from behind Dean, who turns and glares at him, to which the woman sighs and glares at him in turn.  Dean turns back again, rolling his eyes.

 

Gabriel comes out next, eyes dragging over his brother before he looks up to the boys.  “Maybe people will actually begin to believe that you’re FBI agents.  Though I doubt it.  You’re far too good-looking,” he adds, winking, and Michael looks over at him.

 

“Alright, dear, you’re all set,” the woman working on Sam says, and she goes to write a few things down while he goes to change.  When he returns, Dean is gone, as are Michael and Gabriel, but Lucifer is laughing at something Cas is saying.  Cas nods over in his direction, and Lucifer turns, smiling widely.

 

“Oh, what a lucky man I am,” he comments, coming over and dancing his fingers over Sam’s shoulders, landing on his arms as he looks him over.

 

“The same could be said for you.  Who would’ve thought that the devil could clean up nice,” he teases, and Lucifer looks up to retort, but Sam swallows it with a kiss.  When he pulls back, he rubs his thumb over Lucifer’s bottom lip.  “Go get changed.  We need to be heading out.”

 

“Mm,” is all Lucifer says before he leans back up for another kiss and then disappears off toward the changing rooms.  Sam follows him, and, soon, the six of them are heading out into the street again.  Dean surprises him by actually holding Castiel’s hand, in public, and they even bring up the rear, talking quietly to each other, but it makes Sam smile.  He steers them in the direction of a cute little Thai restaurant, where they all receive curious glances until Lucifer casually spills someone’s coffee with a small twist of his fingers and Gabriel sweetens another’s drink to the point where they’re spitting sugar onto the table.  Sam and Dean pretend not to notice.

 

When they get their booth, it’s interesting.  Michael and Gabriel eventually agree to sit opposite each other after Lucifer nearly hip checks Michael out of the way to get in next to Sam, and, while that’s going down, Castiel manages to sneak in quietly next to Dean, and so the two oldest brothers call a truce and settle for playing footsies under the table.  All in all, it’s really rather amusing, and Dean smirks from behind his menu while Sam chuckles quietly to himself; the antics of angels will never get old for them.

 

Sam hooks an arm absentmindedly around the back of their booth, his body angled slightly into the corner, and his fingers land at the top of Lucifer’s back.  He rubs his thumb in a small circle just above the collar of his black button-up, _actually buttoned up_ , over the ridges of his spine, and Lucifer hums appreciation, leaning into the touch just a bit.  “Are you getting anything?” Sam asks after a moment, thumb leaving so that his hand can stroke lazily up and down his back, focused on the area between his shoulder blades.

 

“Maybe,” Lucifer murmurs, unfolding the menu.  The word comes out softly, and Sam smiles, digging his fingers in for a moment before going back to just letting them go easily, and Lucifer reacts to it all, not moving, but his lips twitching into a smile and his body vibrating lightly.  Sam can feel the warm glow of his grace within him through their bond, and it warms him physically and emotionally; he loves it.

 

Gabriel _always_ eats.  He loves food, something his brothers can’t really understand, and Lucifer’s picked up a taste for weird things over time.  Michael is the pickiest eater, and he’s absolutely _disgusted_ by meat, being his Father’s creations and all.  The “they were meant for that, Father made them for that” argument never goes over well, so Gabriel played the role of instructor and helped Michael learn about vegetarianism and helping the animals.  Sam’s pretty sure there was a lot of comfort sex involved.  Castiel’s so alike Dean, sometimes it’s unnatural, but Sam figures that’s just because he’s always been drawn to Dean, always wanted to understand him, and so he’s picked up a lot of his habits.

 

“Mm,” Lucifer says, nudging Sam with his shoulder briefly.  Sam looks over at where he’s pointing on the menu, taking in all the bizarre ingredients.

 

“You know that’s the vegetarian section, right?” he asks after a moment.

 

“Yes, well,” he flips the page, and Sam nods.  The page before is covered in seafood-related dishes, which Lucifer absolutely _refuses_ to eat.  Sam doesn’t even try to reason with him anymore; he’s heard, far too many times, about Joshua’s fishes and how awful humanity is for destroying them.

 

“There’s red and white meat, too,” Sam says, reaching over with his other hand to flip back another page, and he taps the section on the left.  Lucifer makes a little surprised noise and reads through that.  “There’s curry, too.”

 

“Where?”

 

Sam laughs.  “Fifth page.  Michael, did you find the—”

 

“Yes, I heard you talking,” the eldest says with a wave of his hand, “Thank you.”

 

When Sam looks across the table, Dean is glaring doubtfully at his menu, and so Sam spends the next ten minutes going through it with him, ultimately finding something that he nods at, and the others are ordering when he finally gets around to looking for himself.  Thankfully, he’s had Thai enough that he can flip through quickly, and then they’re all just there together, chatting amongst themselves.

 

“So, where are we going for dinner on Tuesday?” Gabriel asks, leaning back into the seat and looking over at Sam.

 

“I’m not sure.  I was going to put it up for a vote.  No,” he adds, gaze landing on Dean, who shuts his mouth and glares at him.

 

“You said it was in Duluth?” Castiel questions, and Sam nods, “Well, there’s this little place on the edge of downtown that Dean and I went to once.”

 

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that place.  What was it called?  Helen’s or something?”

 

“Helen’s, yeah.  It’s nice.  Out of the way, quaint.  Something for everyone,” he adds, nodding.

 

“Alright, sounds good to me.  Anyone object?  I’m going to take your raising hand as silence,” he adds to Gabriel, who rolls his eyes, but continues to keep his hand up.  “No, we’re driving,” he says after a moment, and Gabriel sighs obnoxiously.

 

“Why?  It would be perfectly fine to just transport.  We’d get there faster, and then we wouldn’t all have to cram in the Impala like usual.  Not to mention, it would be safer.  It’s a two hour drive; I don’t see any plausible reasons against.”

 

“Because zapping is _not_ fun for some of us,” Dean retorts, leaning around Cas to look at Gabriel.

 

“How about—” Sam begins loudly, cutting off their impending argument, “—how about you and Michael just zap there, and the rest of us will drive?  You can have loud Valentine’s sex while we’re driving.”  Dean gags, Lucifer smirks, Michael blushes, and Castiel is suddenly very interested in his fork.

 

Gabriel looks like he’s weighing the pros and cons before nodding and turning his attention back to Michael.  Sam rolls his eyes at the archangel before sinking back into his seat.  The muscles under his fingers where they’re still softly massaging Lucifer’s back tighten suddenly, and he stills, pulling his hand away.  Lucifer blinks, looking over at him, and Sam smiles lightly, arching an eyebrow.  “You good?” he asks after a second, and Lucifer sticks out his tongue.

 

“Lucifer,” Michael says sharply, and Lucifer stills under the tone, slowly turning to face Michael.

 

“What?” he says in return, clearly annoyed.

 

“That’s rude.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“What’s rude?” Dean asks curiously, and Lucifer sticks his tongue out at Dean, who yelps.  Sam laughs quietly to himself, to which Dean stares at him in horror.  “You knew about that?” he whispers loudly, and Sam can see him feeling his own tongue against the roof of his mouth, an expression of horror on his face.

 

“It’s not always like that,” Sam says, shrugging, “I think it’s cool.”

 

“It’s disgusting,” Michael says suddenly, and Sam curls a hand over Lucifer’s left shoulder, thumb rubbing into the tense muscles of his neck.  “We’ve discussed this before, Lucifer.”

 

“Oh, we have?” Lucifer snaps, “Before or after you threw me out of Heaven?”

 

“Brothers, now’s not the—” Gabriel tries, but Michael silences him with a furious look.

 

“You’re going to bring that up now?  Here, of all places?  In front of these humans?” Michael hisses, leaning in close to his younger brother.

 

“In case you’ve forgotten, _brother_ , these humans are under mine and Castiel’s protection.  They are _more_ than much of the waste and insolence of this world.  Sam and Dean _both_ are more than you will ever be.”  It’s the last bit that sets Michael off, but Gabriel reaches a lightning-fast hand across the table, fastening around his wrist, and they’re gone with a flutter of wings and a vicious noise in the sky.

 

An angry, tense silence falls over the table, and the two remaining angels are rigid and not breathing.  Finally, after minutes have ticked by, Castiel lets out a slow breath, relaxing into the seat again.  Lucifer looks up at him, and Castiel shrugs.  The food arrives before either of them have a chance to speak, though Castiel does confirm the waitress’ curious glance that the other two men will return, which makes Sam and Dean look over at him in disbelief.

 

“Incoming,” Cas says softly when the waitress leaves, and then Gabriel is back, exhausted-looking.

 

“I’m _sorry_ ,” he says, looking to Lucifer, “That was—I don’t know what’s wrong with him sometimes.  You’d think, being the eldest, the most responsible, he would have some sense of courtesy.  He wasn’t—damn it, Lucifer, he just doesn’t understand.  You are not who either of us remember, and it bothers him to no end.”

 

“I know,” Lucifer says quietly, “Will he return?”

 

“He’s, uh—he’s _there_.”

 

“I _know_.”

 

“Yes, he’ll return.”

 

“Dude,” Dean hisses, and Sam looks over.

 

“What?”

 

“Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

 

“Dean, you whisper very loudly,” Lucifer comments, and Dean straightens, staring at his food.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies, picking up his fork.

 

Lucifer nods when Sam looks over at him.  “Michael is in India currently,” Sam begins, and Dean looks up, “Before it was India, it was where Lucifer fell.  Cas and he were talking to each other and listening to Michael and Gabriel when they were just sitting there.  At least, I— _think_ that’s who you were listening to?” he finishes unsurely.

 

Lucifer nods, but Gabriel is staring at him in utter confusion.  Michael returns a beat later, and he immediately turns.  “How is it possible you know all that?” Gabriel asks before Michael can speak, “The only way—” he breaks off, gaze moving to Lucifer, “No.  That’s not—that’s never happened before.  It’s supposed to be impossible.  It would mean—that he—Lucifer, can he?”

 

“Can he see my grace?  Yes,” Lucifer confirms, looking to Gabriel first, and then to Michael, “All better now?”

 

“Lucifer—”

 

“Save it, Michael.  I don’t want your pity or your apologies.”

 

“Hold on,” Gabriel says, “Sam, you’ve seen his grace?”

 

“I thought that shit blinded you,” Dean interrupts, looking over at Castiel, “You burned out Pamela’s eyes.”

 

“There are very few in the world who can interpret an angel’s true form, even fewer who can an archangel,” Cas says slowly, looking at Sam intently.

 

“So, you’re even more freaky?” Dean teases, nudging him under the table.

 

“Is it anything beyond that?” Michael asks, sounding timid.

 

“I can feel it now that I know to look for it,” Gabriel says, “Your grace and his soul are—are _bonded_ in a way that only angels have ever experienced.  It’s kind of like an eternal marriage,” he adds, looking over at Dean.

 

“Dude, you got _married_ , and you didn’t _tell me_?” is Dean’s initial reaction, and then Sam is laughing, and Dean just follows him.

 

“Will you two just kiss and make up?” Gabriel says once they’ve quieted, looking between his brothers imploringly, “It’s gonna happen, and it has before.  You know how much history there is between us.  There’s all this bullshit that’s never going to go away, and, sure, you’re both probably going to be fighting over the fall for the rest of your lives, but don’t let it push you apart.  _Again_.”

 

“Sure you want us to _kiss_ and make up, Gabriel?” Lucifer says, grinning, and Michael smiles.

 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, leaning into his brother.  Lucifer just sighs, and that’s that.

 

The rest of lunch goes over much better, and, before long, they’re back outside in the chilly winter air, seeking out the warmth of the Impala.  Michael and Gabriel part ways via angel express, but Lucifer slides in the back with Sam while Castiel takes the passenger seat.

 

“I have a non-sexual thing I want to try when we get home,” Sam says once they’re driving.  His fingers are dancing along Lucifer’s thigh and knee, who is relaxed into the seat himself, head resting lightly against Sam’s shoulder.

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like a surprise.  I have an idea.  Indulge me.”

 

“Ugh, _fine_ ,” Lucifer whines, but he’s smiling, and Sam returns it.

 

They’re about halfway home when Bobby calls.  “Hey Bobby, what’s up?” Dean answers.

 

“Your favorite,” he responds, and Dean immediately groans.

 

“Really?”

 

“Really.  Messy, too.  Piles of yuck everywhere.  Shouldn’t be a long case, though.  I know how you’re just dying to go to your play.”

 

“Shove it, Bobby.  You coming over?”

 

“Yeah, already on my way.  See you there, kid.”

 

“Shapeshifter,” Dean says when he hangs up, “You know, second to witches, I _really_ hate Shapeshifters.”

 

And that’s that.  For the next three hours, they work with Bobby, pouring over different police reports while the archangels nudge them in the right direction every once in a while.  Mostly, though, Michael and Castiel are occupied with a chess game, Gabriel is mixing cookie batter, and Lucifer is absorbed in Atonement in the breakfast nook with his two brothers, his feet propped on the edge of Michael’s chair and the sun shining over him.  Sam is occasionally distracted by how beautiful the glow of his grace is, now that he can see it more clearly, trickling just beneath the surface of his human skin.

 

“Alright,” Bobby says at the end of the three hours, straightening, “It’s a long haul.  This is it.  Back on the road.  You guys have had it good for a while now, working mostly in the states around us, but you know there’s gonna be shit hitting the fan as soon as you get back out there.  We can leave in three days, after your show.  I can make some calls, see if I can get some eyes on this guy, make sure he doesn’t pull anything.  I don’t have any real hunters in that area, though.”

 

“Three days?  Yeah, I mean…” Dean trails off, looking over at Cas, who feigns ignorance, “Sam?”

 

“We need to get back out there, Dean.  It’s been nearly a year since we hit the road.  I mean, ever since Amelia and Veronica, we’ve been playing it close to the chest.  The Impala could use some road time.”  Dean grins at this.  “Angel vote?”

 

“The _road_ ,” Lucifer says, drawing out the word, and Sam rolls his eyes.

 

Castiel just nods, looking at Dean for a moment before returning his attention to the chessboard.  There’s a moment of silence before Gabriel speaks, not turning away from the stove.  “We’re not going.  We’ve lived through enough wars and hatred.  We have finally found peace.”

 

“Understandable,” Lucifer says before anyone else can speak, though Sam hears the edge in it.  No one has suffered as much as he has, and he knows that it hurts him, somewhere deep, that his brothers have chosen to abandon them.

 

“Awesome.  Who’s doing dinner tonight?  Last time I was here, you near damn burnt my whole tongue right off,” Bobby says.

 

“Cas is cooking,” Dean says, grabbing a beer from the fridge, “Sam?”

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

“Bobby?”

 

“Are you daft, boy?”  Dean just grins and grabs two more.  “I gotta say, boys, Ellen and Jo are _not_ happy I didn’t call them for this job.”

 

“Why didn’t you?” Dean asks, dropping back onto his stool at the island.

 

“I trust them, I do, but lately…” he trails off, shaking his head, “I’ve been getting calls from other hunters lately, worried about them, saying they’re a little off.”

 

“That’s what dying does to you, Bobby,” Dean reminds, and Sam looks over at his brother, frowning.  Bobby shrugs, though, and that train of conversation dies away into another, for which all involved are thankful.  It’s an easy afternoon after that.

 

\--

 

_February 14, 2012._

 

It takes them two hours to get to Duluth, though they’re a few minutes early for their reservation.  Michael and Gabriel show up late by fifteen minutes, grinning, and Lucifer rolls his eyes at them.  Dinner is far more successful than the other day, and they’re all happy and laughing when they exit, Dean and Sam just a little tipsy.  They get to the theatre in time for the doors to open, and the laughter ceases almost immediately as the angels take in their surroundings, awed.

 

Until, of course, “That’s inaccurate,” Michael murmurs, pointing to the ceiling, and Lucifer looks up, chuckling.  Sam looks up and immediately groans; the ceiling is decorated in paintings of angels flying among clouds and golden gates.  For the next while, the three of them take turns verbally correcting something while Castiel just sits quietly, watching in amusement.  His attention is mostly focused on Dean, though, who is chatting with Sam.  Their hands are laced, and Castiel watches the swipe of Dean’s thumb across the back of his hand, relishing in the sensation it sends tingling through his arm.

 

The lights start to dim eventually, and Lucifer leans his shoulder against Sam’s briefly before straightening again.  Sam looks over with a curious expression, but the archangel just smiles and reverts his attention back to the stage.  Sam blinks, confused, and he’s about to turn his head again when he sees Lucifer’s dancing fingers, tapping out rhythms on his thigh, and he reaches over, taking his wrist.  He doesn’t react other than to still his fingers, and Sam draws his hand over so that he can curl their fingers together, to which Lucifer squeezes lightly, his smile widening.

 

It’s quite the experience.  Each of the angels is enraptured by the musical, and Sam even notes Dean’s wide eyes and small smile.  It’s almost more of a show to watch their reactions than the actual play, but Sam does his best to pay attention.  At intermission, Lucifer instantly leans forward, Michael doing the exact same, and Gabriel erupts in laughter as they have the same train of thought.  The night continues on fantastically, and it’s four o’clock in the morning before that ends.

 

Sam is asleep next to him, far, far away in his dreams, his breathing slow and even, and Lucifer looks him over a moment before sliding out of the bed.  Sam isn’t touching him, regardless, just spread out on his stomach, having dipped into sleep just a few minutes after they’d finished really celebrating the holiday, though his hand flexes instinctively over the empty spot when Lucifer’s feet hit the floor.  He pads over to the window, naked, sucking his bottom lip in with his teeth.  He’s felt off since they got back, like something wasn’t quite right, though he managed to stifle it enough that Sam didn’t notice.  Now, however, he folds his arms across his chest and looks out at the night, carefully extending his grace around their property, searching.  Nothing but the quiet noise of slumbering animals reaches him, and so he folds in on himself again, left only to the steady thrum of Sam’s soul.

 

The moon is high, shining in the sky, and he stares at it for a moment, brow furrowing.  Despite his search, he’s still uneasy, and he has half a mind to unfold his wings and reach for Heaven.  Sighing, he shakes his head and turns.  The cold tip of an angel’s blade ghosts across his stomach, pierces, and it will not kill him, cannot, but it rips at his grace, making him gasp.

 

He does not know the angel in front of him, but he does know the demon standing off to the side.  His only thought is Sam, and he reaches out, suffocating the other demon peering curiously at him.  The body drops, and then the room disappears.

 

He staggers when his feet hit solid ground again, and he turns, anger searing through him, but there’s a ring of fire surrounding him, and he growls low in his throat, seeking out his attackers.  “Who ever thought you could catch the devil unawares,” a familiar voice hisses, and he turns again in time to see Amelia step out of the shadows, “Good work, boys.  Any casualties?”

 

“One of yours took an interest in Sam,” the angel that had stabbed him says.  Lucifer looks down, and the blade is still sticking out of him.  He pulls it out roughly, tossing it to the side, his skin healing over the wound immediately.

 

“And Veronica?”

 

“Still alive, somehow,” Veronica says as she, too, comes forward.  He doesn’t know the angel still, or the other two at his side, but he remembers these two demons so well, remembers searching and searching until the final moment had come with Raphael, and he hadn’t had time to search anymore.

 

“How did you hide?” he demands, glaring at them.

 

“Because we have friends,” Amelia reminds him, “You killed off our others, but Raphael had a large following.  It’s good, too, because he taught us all the ways to harm an archangel, particularly you.”

 

“Unless you want to kill me, I am hard-pressed to believe you can make me suffer at all,” Lucifer says coldly.

 

“Oh, but sweetie,” Amelia says, coming closer, “I will do my very best.”  She holds his gaze for a few moments before turning, “Allocen, Douma, please retrieve Raphael’s things.  Veronica, Phoenix, keep watch.”  The names make Lucifer frown; he knows them now, fallen angels that followed him into Hell and then shunned him, infuriated with his turmoil of anguish and self-loathing.  They’d all turned on him, someone they’d followed thinking he was a leader only to find him a broken and refused son, forever bound to sorrow.  He understands why they are here, why they joined Raphael.

 

The four of them disappear at Amelia’s command, leaving her to face Lucifer alone.  “I have looked forward to this day for quite some time, Lucy,” she says, smiling, “I’m curious, though.  Why not call for Sam?  I’m sure he could round up your brothers and come to your rescue.  Ah, but that would put him in danger, and you’d never risk that.  It’s touching, really.”  She rolls her eyes, turning away and looking toward the shadows where Lucifer can still smell the stink of demon, Veronica, to the right; Phoenix is to the left.

 

Allocen and Douma return after some time, wheeling a few carts, and then they, too, disappear into the shadows.  Lucifer watches Amelia curiously, as she flits amongst her things.  Finally, though, she speaks up, “There is an old legend, one I’m sure you’re heard before, that tells of a time when three fallen angels came together to trap their almighty savior, one who had abandoned them.  They trapped him, and then they set the wrath of Hell upon him.  It was said that they tried for thirteen days and thirteen nights to trap him unsuccessfully, and it was not until the half moon that they managed to trap him.  They had missed the first of the month, and, thus, the first half moon.  It is an old legend, older than you, but I have heard it through the darkness of Hell, and so I am sure you have, as well.”

 

Lucifer watches her, frowning.  She’s someone Sam would find pretty, with soft, red hair tumbling in curls around her pale face, but her eyes glint black, and he can see inside her, tormented and angry, warped beyond all recognition.  She lifts a knife from one of her carts, the edges jagged, and he steps back, real fear tainting him.  He knows that blade.  He had watched one of their angels of elements shape it, had listened to him wield a story of terror.  This blade could hurt him; it would not kill him, but it would hurt as though he were back in Hell.

 

“You recognize it,” Amelia says, looking and sounding pleased.  Lucifer watches as she raises her hands upward, the knife curving out toward her left hand, and then the chanting begins, archaic and dangerous.  He never truly believed the stories, though when Amelia steps into the circle of holy fire, her hand dripping blood, he cannot move.  “I want you to appreciate what lengths we’ve gone to,” she says softly, reaching forward and touching the pad of her finger to his chest, sliding it down a few inches, and then pulling back.  “So real, so tangible,” she murmurs, “Each fallen angel is stationed in a specific spot around you.  Allocen is to your right, Douma to your left, and Phoenix is behind you.  Veronica is before you with three hundred demons that just sacrificed their free lives on Earth, forever banished to Hell, so that we may strip you down until you are nothing but a begging, bleeding mess, and only then will I finish you,” she spits, the tip of the knife coming to rest between Lucifer’s collarbones.

 

Slowly, Amelia drags it down, to the end of his ribs, and he steels himself against the searing pain.  “Did you know—” she begins when she’s finished, pulling back and staring at the slow trickle of blood from the thin cut, “—that when a vessel’s soul is returned to Heaven or Hell, the grace becomes so attune to the body that the angel is actually grounded in it, forever held there.  I mean, I’m sure you guys can get away with it because you’re daddy’s favorites, but I’ll make sure, when I’m done, this body can never be put back together again.  You will die, Lucifer, and you will never return, and Sam will suffer on without you.  He may even move on, may find a beautiful woman for himself, someone he can never truly give his heart to because you took that, and you bound it to your grace, and he will forever feel an ache so deep that not even death can ease.”

 

Lucifer swallows the lump in his throat, his jaw set hard and rigid, his body trembling.  _Sam_.

 

\--

 

It’s early still, just barely beyond dawn, when Sam jerks out of a nightmare, gasping for air.  It’s been a long, _long_ time since he slept so poorly, and he pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to banish the lingering traces of the dream before he forces himself to sit up, body twisting around.  The bed is empty beside him.

 

He blinks down at it, frozen in place for a moment, before he looks up and around the room.  It’s dark, silent, and Sam feels afraid.  He gets out of bed slowly, going over to check the bathroom and then the window, but there’s no sign of Lucifer outside or on the lake, and so he dresses in a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a sweatshirt, tugging on his socks as he goes.  He takes the stairs two at a time, searches through the first floor, and he’s starting to panic when he pushes outside.

 

His soul feels cold, he realizes suddenly, no grace to protect and warm it.  His eyes widen as this occurs to him, and he nearly falls over the threshold in his haste to get back inside.  “ _Michael_!” he yells, swinging around the corner and racing up the stairs.  He does fall through their doorway, and, when he looks up, Gabriel is turning away from his desk while Michael is pulling on a pair of pants.

 

“What’s wrong?” they ask at the same time, and Sam picks himself up, panting.

 

“Lucifer’s gone.  I can’t find him or feel him anywhere.”

 

Michael looks to Gabriel, who frowns.  “I’ll check upstairs,” Gabriel says after a moment, disappearing.

 

“See if Castiel is still here,” Michael says, ushering Sam out of the room before he makes for the stairs.

 

“Where are you going?” Sam asks, watching him.

 

“To wait for Gabriel.  If he’s in Heaven, it’s no use searching the Earth.”

 

“Okay,” Sam nods, and then he’s off to Dean’s room, knocking softly even as he pushes the door open.

 

“Dean,” he hears Castiel’s voice, and Dean grunts.  “Sam, is everything alright?” Cas asks from the darkness, and he can just make out his shape sliding off the bed, pushing Dean again, and dressing as he walks over.

 

“Lucifer is gone,” Sam says, “Michael thought you might be, too.”

 

“Guys, what the fuck,” Dean grumbles from the bed.

 

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas says, turning halfway, and Dean sighs, pushing up.  “Where are Michael and Gabriel?”

 

“Michael is downstairs waiting for Gabriel to get back from Heaven.”

 

“Okay, we’ll be down in a second.”

 

Sam just nods before heading back down the hall, his hands shaking.  He starts to put them in his pockets when he remembers, and his eyes blow wide before he crashes back into their room, practically breaking the bedside drawer in his hurry to open it.  He stares at the black feather for a brief moment before he lifts it in his hands and closes his eyes, folding both hands over it.  “Where are you?” he whispers, but the feather is cold, and he can feel nothing.

 

\--

 

The first time they manage to make the devil scream is when his legs fail him, and he crashes to his knees, his whole body shaking.  Deep gashes cover his front, blood pooling around him and sticking to his bare legs, but it’s not these that have broken him.  He can feel the knife gouging into his back, tearing at the muscle of his shoulder blades.  His wings cannot be cut out; such an idea is ludicrous, but he will bear these scars forever, the mark of a tortured angel.

 

When she finishes, Amelia, Lucifer braces himself, knows what’s coming next, and his eyes fill as he hears the air rush around something heavy, and then the bones of his spine shatter.  They heal immediately, but breaking his bones was never Amelia’s goal.

 

His wings, black and mighty, snap out a blinding speed, filling the room with their shadow so that they can hardly see.  Before they’re even fully unfurled, he feels the bite of unbreakable wire, barbed and sharp, sink into the flesh of his left wing, and his screams fill the room as Amelia pulls, demonic strength snapping the bone in half.  The wire stays, holding the wing bent so he can’t heal, and Lucifer struggles to say upright.

 

He loses time after that, grace shattering apart as she ruins his wings, this piece of him that he loves, the _only_ angelic piece of him that he is proud of, something that Sam has healed and put back together, and she tears them to shreds.

 

Lucifer feels Sam’s touch as his right wing sags to the ground, soaked in his own blood.  Amelia sinks the knife into Raphael’s scar on his left wing as Sam’s voice fills his head, _where are you_ , and he holds onto it, reaches for the touch of his soul.  He needs to protect his grace.  Sam’s grip tightens on his feather, and he closes his eyes, desperate.

 

Sudden warmth floods through him, and he hides in it, shields himself even as Amelia curses.  She’s trying to break him enough to get to his grace, to use his old wounds, but nothing can shake the hold he has on Sam’s soul, nothing but Amelia discovering its presence.

 

 _Sam_ , he calls, keeping his eyes closed.  All he sees are his broken wings if he opens them, and it hurts more than the physical pain.

 

\--

 

Sam jolts as though he’s been electrocuted, and he gasps, staggering until his knees hit the bed, and he collapses.  He can feel everything, every moment of pain, and he pushes toward it, tries to soothe it.  Lucifer latches on, wraps himself within Sam, and he says his name, and Sam starts screaming.

 

He barely makes it out of his room before Dean is at the bottom of the stairs.  “Sammy!” he shouts, but Sam is already stumbling down the stairs, panting.  “Sam, what’s wrong?” Dean demands, grabbing him when he hits the first floor.

 

“He’s being tortured,” he manages to force out, his whole body shaking now.

 

“Where?” Michael says, pushing away from the island.

 

“I don’t know.  He’s—”

 

“Sam.”  Michael steps in front of Dean, catching Sam’s gaze, “Do not let that feather go.  Do not let him go.”  Sam nods, fearful.  “I’m going to put together a garrison of angels, and we’re going to find him.  Castiel,” he continues, turning away to face his youngest brother, “I trust you to find two of your best soldiers.  They must know the mission before they consent.”  Castiel is gone without another word, and then Michael is stepping away from them.  “I’m going to find Gabriel and Joshua.  Sam, we will find him.”

 

Sam and Dean stare at the empty space Michael leaves behind, and Sam pushes against Dean, desperate for something to ground him.  Dean just winds his arms tightly around him, rubs his back, and whispers nonsense like he did when he was little, and it nearly breaks him.

 

\--

 

“Amelia.”  The demon looks up as Veronica approaches.  “I believe we have incoming company.”  Lucifer looks to Veronica at this, and then he turns his gaze upon a frowning Amelia.

 

“Company?” she repeats, “Like who?”

 

“I’m not sure, but—” she breaks off as the place around them starts to shake, “That.”

 

“Oh _shit_ ,” one of the unseen angels says, and then the whole place is encased in white light.

 

Lucifer watches in awe as Michael descends, Gabriel and Castiel as his two commanders behind him, Joshua amongst the seven other angels.  “Stand down, brothers,” Michael commands, his sword gleaming even as the light dies.  Phoenix transforms, fire rippling through him, and the battle begins.  Amelia retreats toward Lucifer, knife raised, even as a hand closes over Veronica’s throat, Castiel’s, and his other hand comes down atop her forehead.  Lucifer watches as she screams and dies, the sounds of warring angels overwhelming him.

 

Lucifer waits, bides his time until Michael’s sword tears through Phoenix, and then his right wing swings through the air, the sharp edge digging right through Amelia’s shoulder.  Her mouth opens, and Lucifer darts a hand up, catching the demon even as she tries to escape.  He doesn’t say a word as he closes his hand into a fist, and the blackness explodes before him.  The pressure on his left wing suddenly disappears, and he turns, prepared to attack, when he notices Castiel carefully removing the barbed edges from his wing, the ring of holy fire gone.

 

When he finishes, he turns his gaze to Lucifer and says, “Leave,” and then he’s gone, stepping in Allocen’s path as he approaches Lucifer, an angel dropping to the ground behind him.  That is the last Lucifer sees before he closes his eyes.  The next thing he hears is Sam’s shout.  His knees hit the floor, and he sags forward until Sam’s warm hands settle over him, holding him up.  He can hear Dean moving, his feet quick and heavy.

 

“You’re okay now,” Sam says, pushing his damp hair away from his face, “You’re okay.”

 

“Sam,” he whispers weakly, trying to reach for him and failing.  He sees nothing but blackness after that.

 

\--

 

“Dude, angels are freaking _heavy_ ,” Dean groans as they heave Lucifer onto the bed.  His vessel is already nearly healed, his gory front smooth and unscathed yet again, but his back is another story entirely.  Sam turns his head to the side and pushes a pillow underneath before straightening and scrubbing a hand through his hair, trying to steady his breathing.

 

“Okay,” he says after a moment, turning to his brother, “They need to be cleaned—his wings,” he adds, and Dean nods.

 

“Am I allowed to touch them?”

 

“Yes.  Uh, we need— _God_ , Dean,” he breaks off, turning away from the bed, shaking.

 

“Dude, come on, you need to get out of here for a second.”

 

Sam takes a moment to breathe once they’re in the hallway, and then they’re moving again, collecting supplies before they head back into the bedroom, steeling themselves.  “Have you ever groomed Cas’ wings before?” Sam asks as they set up on either side, the large black wings sticking to the ground.  When Dean shakes his head, Sam nods and leaves his things to come around to his brother’s side.  “It’s not hard, but you can’t screw up,” he says slowly, kneeling and motioning for Dean to do the same.  “The base—” he begins, pointing to his back, “—is the most sensitive.  Be careful there.  There are also glands,” he pauses to reveal them, “Don’t, absolutely _don’t_ , under any circumstances, touch those.”

 

“Alright,” Dean nods, “What else?”

 

“Be gentle.  They’re not easily pulled out, but they can be, the feathers.  The end—” he points toward where the wing is curling against the wall, “—is sharp, very, and you’ll get hurt if you’re not careful.  We need to clean those out first—” he points to the wounds above the wings, “—but then the work starts on the actual wings.  They need to be straightened first, which is simple enough.”  He demonstrates fixing a few feathers.  “Soft fingers,” he says, looking to his brother, who nods again, and then Sam stands, preparing to step back when he realizes which side Dean is on.  “Uh, actually,” he says, frowning, “Work on the right wing, okay?”

 

“Okay… why?”

 

“Because there’s a scar on the left one that he’s sensitive about,” he says, “And pretend you don’t know that after this.  I’m not even sure if you’re really allowed to touch his wings, but I don’t care.  I need you.”  When Dean just looks at him, Sam sighs, kneeling again.  “Dean,” he begins softly, looking up at Lucifer, “I can feel everything.  The pain he’s in right now is—unbelievable.  He’s not going to smite you.  I said it was okay, and so it is.”

 

“Married, huh,” Dean says, nudging Sam before getting up and crossing over to the other side.

 

They spend the next half hour in silence, making quick work of straightening his feathers, and Dean watches Sam at the base and near the sharp end before he does it himself.  Afterward, they murmur a quick few chants over their buckets of water, crosses swimming through them, and they set about washing down the wounds.  That takes another half hour, and then they’re pulling Lucifer up and slowly turning him onto his back.  An hour later, his wings are clean, and the wounds are slowly healing.

 

“Want me to stay?” Dean asks as they finish and stand.

 

“You don’t have to,” Sam whispers, and Dean nods.

 

“But do you want me to?”  Sam nods, and Dean goes to take a seat.  “So, what now?”

 

“Well,” Sam sighs, “The scar isn’t healing.”  Sam slowly feels his way under his back until he reaches the gland, and he strokes it carefully, rolling it between his fingers until it warms, humming softly as the oil spills out onto his fingers.

 

“I thought you said we weren’t supposed to touch those,” Dean says, peering over at him as he straightens, hand wet and shining.

 

“ _You’re_ not,” Sam corrects him, tossing him a shrug before slowly massaging his hand over the scar, soothing every ache with a caress of his soul.  When he’s finished, he works more oil out, and he carefully threads his fingers through the feathers of his left wing, seeking out the warmth of Lucifer’s grace and working to calm it and ease the steady throb of pain.  Dean stays with him the whole time, sometimes watching him, sometimes flipping through the books on the desk, and sometimes staring out the window.  Sam knows he’s restless, worried about Castiel, but he’s so grateful that his brother stays with him.

 

“Cas’ wings aren’t that big,” Dean says when Sam is curling careful fingers around the sharp end.

 

“Cas isn’t an archangel,” Sam reminds, looking over at Dean for a moment, “Lucifer’s aren’t even the biggest,” he goes on, “You should see Michael’s.  Damn.”

 

“You’ve seen Michael’s?”

 

“And Gabriel’s.  And, well, briefly Raphael’s before he dropped me into the lake.  When we fell into the cage, Michael and Lucifer’s wings were out.  I don’t think they can hide them there.  I think it’s like Heaven.  You just see everything.  Gabriel came down to get us, and I saw his then.”

 

“Are Michael’s white?”

 

“Yeah.  All the archangels are, except Lucifer’s.  Hell ruined them.”

  
“Cas’ are brown.”

 

“Really?”  Sam finishes with the right wing and turns to Dean, who nods.

 

“This is totally gay, but—they match his hair.”  Dean shrugs, smiling as he looks away.  “We talked about that marriage thing.  Not the binding of grace and soul thing,” he assures when Sam looks at him, “The claiming thing.  He said you and Lucifer are bound in two different ways.”  When Sam nods, Dean continues, “Something about oil or whatever.”

 

“The oil glands.  The things you can’t touch,” Sam clarifies, and Dean nods.

 

“What is it?  Like—does the oil claim you?  Mark you as that angel’s— _property_?”

 

“Pretty much,” Sam laughs, “Kind of sucks when you say it like that.”

 

“When did it happen?”

 

Sam sits on the edge of the bed, looking down at Lucifer’s naked body for a moment before he stands again and goes to retrieve him clothes.  “In Hell,” he says after he’s dressed him in a pair of pants.  “There are actually three forms.”

 

Dean shrugs his shoulder, Sam nods, and then Dean’s eyes widen.  “No way, dude.  Where?”

 

“I think Castiel told you, or tried to.”  Sam pulls down the waistband of his sweatpants just a little, revealing the thumbprint on his hip.  Dean whistles, eyes flicking back up to Sam’s face with a grin.  “Shut up,” Sam grumbles.  “How are you and—” Sam breaks off suddenly as he feels the stir of Lucifer’s grace, and Dean arches an eyebrow, leaning forward.  “Lucifer,” Sam says softly, laying a hand over his belly as he looks at his face, searching for signs of life.

 

The stirring turns into an all-out storm, and Sam scrambles forward, taking his face in both hands as his wings buffet wildly, snapping up and tightening around both of them.  Dean yelps, shouting for his brother, even as Sam presses his forehead against Lucifer’s and closes his eyes, wrapping around the frightened and fighting eruption of Lucifer’s grace.

 

“ _Sam_.”

 

He opens his eyes, and Lucifer’s ethereal blue are staring up at him.  “You’re okay,” Sam says immediately, leaning down to kiss him softly.  “We’re at the house.  You showed up in the living room, and we brought you upstairs.”

 

“We?”

 

“Dean and me.”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Of course.  As long as you are.”

 

“Michael?”

 

“I don’t know.  They haven’t returned.”  Lucifer stares at him for a moment longer before his wings slowly unfurl, draping back against the floor.  Dean is on his feet, fearful, but Sam straightens, nodding to his brother.  “How are your wings?” Sam asks, rubbing a hand over Lucifer’s side.

 

 “Better.  Thank you.”  Lucifer’s gaze flickers to Dean, who just shrugs and blushes, sinking back into his chair.  “Can you help me sit up?” he asks of Sam, holding out a hand.  Slowly, they get him upright, and Sam settles back on the bed.  Before anyone can talk, though, the first floor explodes, the frame of the house shaking.  “Gabriel,” Lucifer gasps, trying to move, but Sam stills him.

 

“Michael is with him,” Sam says, open to the feel of their chaotic graces, “You’re injured.  Dean, can you—”

 

“Halfway there,” Dean says before the door opens.  Downstairs, Michael is frantically healing Gabriel, murmuring quickly and shakily, Gabriel, who is hunched over, hands curled tight over his side.  They don’t seem aware he’s there, and so he moves quietly, peering over until he can see the bright, white light of Gabriel’s grace leaking out of a violent gash.

 

“Michael,” Gabriel says, reaching for him, and Michael stills, hands falling to his arms, holding tight.  Something passes between them, some ancient memory, and Michael nods.  Before Dean realizes what’s happening, the air is suddenly thick and electric.  Michael’s white wings smell like freshly mown grass and soft cotton, pure and calming, like a slow, warm breeze.  They close carefully around Gabriel, sealing him away, and, this time, Dean knows to look away.  He can feel the glow of their graces, warming his skin, and he waits until it’s gone before he makes for the stairs.  Cas is standing in his way.

 

“Thank God,” Dean gasps, pulling the angel to him.  Castiel smiles, winding his arms around Dean.  “I was so afraid.”

 

“I made a promise to you,” Castiel assures, “I don’t plan on breaking it.”  Dean just holds him tighter.

 

\--

 

Later that night, they’re all gathered in Sam’s room, though it had been interesting getting everyone together.  Dean and Castiel are the first to come through, and Castiel immediately starts talking with Lucifer.  It’s not surprising, their friendship, not after so long, but it is still endearing.  Michael and Gabriel are next, interrupting their conversation, and the silence settles like dead weight.  Sam can feel the warmth of their graces together, and he pulls away, allowing them privacy.  Nearly a minute ticks by before anyone moves, and then Michael begins, “We arrived, and Castiel freed Lucifer.  Amelia and Veronica were there, but they’re dead, as are the three fallen angels we encountered.”

 

“Amelia and Veronica?” Dean repeats, gawking.

 

“They came here,” Lucifer says quietly, “Veronica was in this room.  They trapped me with the angels, Allocen, Douma, and Phoenix.  They had unbreakable wire,” he directs this to Michael, “They broke my wing.  That is a weapon of Heaven, Michael.  What was it doing in the hands of a demon?”

 

“Raphael,” Michael sighs, “We are still trying to find everything he took.  How is your wing?”

 

Lucifer lifts the left one experimentally, unfurling it from where he’s closed them, and he frowns, bringing it back.  “Still healing,” he says, sighing.  Sam rubs a hand over his knee, face contorted in concern.  “Gabriel, you were wounded.”

 

“Michael took care of it,” Gabriel assures before standing, “We’ll leave you to rest.”

 

The four of them slowly make their way out until it’s just Sam and Lucifer.  “Please don’t ask me what happened,” Lucifer says after a moment.

 

“Okay,” Sam agrees, “What _can_ I do?”

 

“Lie with me.”  Sam moves onto his back, and Lucifer stretches over him, head coming to rest on his chest and wings slowly unfolding.  Lucifer catches Sam’s wrist before his fingers can settle on his feathers.  “Don’t.  Please.”

 

Instead, Sam reaches for Atonement on the bedside table.  “Where are you?” he asks.  Lucifer just smiles brightly and flips open to the last section.

 

\--

 

_March 20, 2012._

 

They’re fighting a couple of demons a few states away when it happens.

 

Sam is in another room downstairs when Dean runs through a shattered door and into the master bedroom to find Lucifer clawing the demon right out of the human and ripping it apart, fury and strength in his movements.  Dean jumps forward to get the one sneaking up on him, but he’s a second too late, and Dean watches in confusion as the demon snatches a jewelry box off the dressed and brings it down between Lucifer’s shoulder blades with a sharp crack.  The box shatters, and the archangel spins and slaps a hand over his forehead.  The body falls, but so does Lucifer, sagging to his knees, and all Dean can do is stand there, dumbfounded.  But then he hears Sam shouting for him, and he hurries forward, dropping to one knee and looping Lucifer’s arm around his shoulders.  “Dean?” he says slowly.

  
“Come on, let’s go.  Sam needs us.”  He heaves Lucifer onto his feet, and, after a few stumbling steps, he seems to remember how to walk, and they get downstairs a little faster.  Castiel got to Sam first, and they’re  just coming into the living room, talking, when Dean and Lucifer walk in.

 

“What happened?” Sam demands, coming over and taking Lucifer from Dean.

 

“I think it’s his wings.  One of the demons upstairs hit him in the back, and he went down.”

 

Sam helps Lucifer onto the couch, and he hones in on Lucifer’s grace at the same time Castiel does, who gasps and staggers back.  Sam grits his teeth against the overwhelming pain and fear, pushing his soul out toward Lucifer and digging his fingers into his thigh, trying to pull him back physically, as well.  Lucifer lifts his head suddenly, looking to Sam, who curls a hand around his jaw.  “It’s not fully healed, is it?”  Lucifer just shakes his head, and Sam nods before standing and helping Lucifer up.  “We gotta get out of here before more come looking,” Sam says, and so they slowly make their way back out to the car.

 

Chuck is waiting for them back at the motel, talking to an enraptured Beck.  “Beck, you remember my sons, right?” he says as the four of them struggle in, though Sam can see a flash of concern and worry cross his face.

 

“The devil and the rebel angel,” Beck says, “and their pets.”

 

“Stop listening to Gabriel, Beck.”

 

“But he said he was testing me!”

 

“He likes to test my patience.  Sit him down,” he adds to Sam, pulling a chair from the table.  Sam helps Lucifer into the chair and steps back as Dean closes the door.  A moment later, Chuck ghosts a hand over Lucifer’s back, and the archangel straightens with a gasp as Chuck’s hand disappears through clothing and body.  “Sh,” he murmurs, touching the back of Lucifer’s neck before his next hand sinks in beside the other.  Sam can feel Chuck’s grace pouring into Lucifer, so vast and unimaginably powerful that he pulls away, gasping.  It only lasts a few moments before Chuck is straightening and touching two fingers to Lucifer’s temple.  In a blink, he’s lying on one of the beds, eyes closed.  “He’s asleep,” Chuck says, “His wing is healed, and he’ll be okay when he wakes.  Beck and I have already taken care of the rest of the demons in this town.  They were planning to attack again tonight.”

 

“Thank you, Father,” Castiel says softly, and Sam and Dean give their own thanks.

 

“I wish I could stay, but Beck is due home soon, and his mother is rather cross when he’s late.  I will stop by soon to see how he’s doing,” Chuck says, and then he’s gone without any warning, and they’re left to their own devices.

 

Sam calls first shower, and Dean waits until his brother has disappeared into the bathroom, the door open just a crack, before he turns to Cas, “Wanna go out and grab dinner?  Figure we might as well give them some alone time.”

 

“Lucifer should be awake in a few minutes probably.  Take away?”

 

“No,” Dean says with a smile, taking his hand, “Let’s, like— _actually_ go out.  On a date, or whatever.”  Cas just smiles and nods, letting Dean lead them out of the room and back into the car.

 

Inside, Sam strips out of his clothes and leaves them in a heap on the ground as the hot water steams around him.  He pushes the glass door aside and slides it back in place once he’s inside, and, though the heat is precious, he just stands there for a few moments, lets it roll over him and soothe the ache in his muscles.

 

He’d known, he’d known all this time, and it had taken until a _demon_ hurt his angel before Sam did something, before Sam thought to pray for Chuck.  Because he’d known something was wrong with his wing, that something wasn’t right, he’d known the morning after when he woke to the bed empty next to him and Lucifer downstairs, making himself tea.  He’d known every morning after that, when tea became routine, when Lucifer didn’t bring out his wings anymore, when Sam slid a hand down his stomach and ended up with a sprained wrist as Lucifer disappeared and didn’t return until the next morning.  They hadn’t even slept close since that night, and _damn it_ , he’s only human.

 

He’s already half-hard when he opens his eyes, and he sighs, shoulders sagging.  He’d done so good waiting, trying to pretend Lucifer was just still shaken up about everything, but it’s been over a month, and he’d known all along it wasn’t that.

 

Before he really registers what he’s doing, his hand is sliding down, and he’s digging his palm against his groin, eyes slipping shut against the spike of pleasure that runs through him.  He hasn’t gotten off in forever, and he’s been wound so goddamn tight that he just ignores the sharp pang of guilt and fists his hand around his cock, gives it a slow, tight pull, and then he’s lifting his other hand to his mouth, fingers curled in a fist that he can bite his knuckles and muffle the groan that rips from somewhere low in his throat.

 

It’s the noise that pulls Lucifer entirely from his slumber, a strange enough occurrence as that is.  He blinks his eyes open, listening, and there it is again, a muffled _fuck_ in Sam’s voice.  His body stirs at the obscenity, a wave of lust rolling through him.

 

He pushes up slowly, rolls his shoulders and sighs, smiling lightly, when his back doesn’t hurt.  It’s been hell this past month, trying to fix his wing while having to back away from Sam.  He can feel his Father’s grace still soothing over his, and he sends his gratitude north.  It’s quick, though, because now his cock is heavy in his pants, and he struggles out of his clothes, leaving a trail as he makes his way to the bathroom and pushes the door open, the wood creaking.  He can see Sam’s silhouette, shoulder leaned against the wall and feet spread a little, elbow moving as he jerks himself, but he stills at the noise.  “Dean?” he says, and Lucifer smirks.

 

“I believe he went out,” Lucifer says, and Sam swears again, but, before he can turn, Lucifer has the door open and is stepping in behind him.  It’s cramped in the tiny motel shower, but it doesn’t matter because he wants to be close to Sam, would cramp him even if they were home.  “Sam,” he breathes out, hands sliding up over his shoulders and down his arms, pulling him away from the wall, “It’s not your fault.  Stop blaming yourself for not doing anything.”

 

“Stop reading my mind,” Sam grumbles, and then they’re not talking anymore because Sam has turned, and he reaches up to cup Lucifer’s face and kiss him, mouth hot and insistent.  “Your wing?” he asks when he breaks away to breathe.

 

“Healed,” Lucifer confirms, “I miss you.”

 

“I’m right here,” Sam promises, leaning forward to kiss him again, but it’s quick because then he’s pulling away and turning, reaching for Lucifer’s left hand and settling it on his hip.  “Please?”

 

Lucifer bites back a groan, leaning forward to bite at Sam’s neck and shoulder as he slides his right hand down, fingers skimming over Sam’s ass before they’re slipping between his cheeks, water running down Sam’s back and slicking the way.  Sam thinks he could come just from the way Lucifer stretches him wide open, digs his nails into his hip, and pushes into him, breath stuttering out of him in a low, strangled moan.  “ _Sam_ ,” he growls, forehead meeting the nape of Sam’s neck, and they stay like that for a few moments, Lucifer buried deep inside him, Sam struggling desperately to find his breath.

 

But then Sam turns his head a little, just so, and his words whisper across Lucifer’s skin, force another moan out of him, “ _Fuck me_.”

 

Sam braces one hand on the wall in front of him, and he uses the other to wrap around his dick, but then Lucifer is swatting his hand away, and, as Sam balances both hands against the wall, Lucifer’s tightens one hand over him and the other over his thumbprint.  Their sounds reverberate in the small space around him, Lucifer’s fast, strangled breath, curled occasionally around a growl, and Sam’s building groan, his body shaking apart as Lucifer’s hips slap against his ass, his cock disappearing inside him in long, hard thrusts.  He mumbles something incoherent, and then Lucifer is moaning and biting at the back of his shoulder, stilling inside him for a moment before he changes pace and rhythm, thrusts turning erratic as he thrusts shallow and quick, his fingers digging almost too tightly into Sam’s hip.  Sam can feel his own orgasm building in his belly, fire licking down his spine, but then Lucifer’s hand stills and closes around the base of his cock, and he opens his mouth to whine, but the devil gasps and Sam’s hip flashes pain for a moment as his fingers bruise.  Lucifer is limp against him for only a few seconds before he pulls out and steps back, tugging at Sam until he turns, and he groans when the angel drops to his knees fluidly and wraps his lips around the head of Sam’s cock, sucks hard and releases the base of Sam’s cock in favor of stroking along his balls.  He comes almost instantly, groaning and his knees almost giving out.

 

The water has turned mostly cold by now, but Lucifer fixes that with a quick flick of his fingers so Sam can actually wash up, and then they’re kissing hotly against the sink, Lucifer all sharp edges and so much more angel than he is human.  Sam is overcome by the desire to lavish an absurd amount of attention on him, and he slowly pushes away from the sink and steers the archangel into the motel room until his knees hit the bed, and Lucifer breaks from the kiss to sink onto the uncomfortable bed.  Sam pushes at his shoulder until he lies back, head pillowed and lean, muscled body stretched out.  He spreads his legs a little, forked tongue darting out to lick over his bottom lip, and that really shouldn’t turn Sam on as much as it does, but he’ll be damned if he denies that he hasn’t sometimes begged for that tongue hot over his dick.

 

Sam just stares at him for a few long moments, soaks him in as one of Lucifer’s hands flits down his front, settles on his stomach and traces little circles there, his cock filling and curving up toward his belly.  And then he can’t stand just watching him any longer, and he settles between his spread thighs, drags his hands up against the hair, feels the muscles tense under his touch.  He dips his head down to mouth at Lucifer’s right hip, sucking up over to the jutting bone where he bites, and Lucifer’s belly caves in as he exhales shakily.  He leaves a dark bruise there that he knows will probably be gone in a few minutes, and then he’s working his way down the curve of his thigh, nipping and kissing softly until he reaches his balls, and he takes a moment to tease them with his tongue until Lucifer’s hand is suddenly threading through his hair, tugging just a little.  Sam lets him tug, lets him pull him up along the angel’s body until he’s curling over him, but he refuses his mouth, instead drops to his chest, catching his teeth over the hardened bud of Lucifer’s left nipple.  The angel swears and bucks a little, hand falling to Sam’s shoulder as he continues to abuse it, mouth laying wet as his tongue flicks across the nipple until Lucifer is whining and squirming, pulling at Sam again.  He ignores him still, kissing his way across his chest, stopping to bite the skin above his sternum, marking it, and then he’s working on the right nipple.  Lucifer decides then that he’d rather put his angel strength to use, and his thumb and forefinger land on Sam’s jaw and jerk his head up.  Before Sam can even catch his breath, Lucifer is kissing him, all teeth and tongue, fast and fierce.  Sam lets him until he needs to breathe, and then he pulls back and mimics the hold Lucifer has on him, fingers curling around his jaw.  “Easy,” he whispers, thumb darting up to drag across his bottom lip.  Lucifer whines, a low, angry noise, but Sam just holds his gaze, and, finally, slowly, the archangel submits and relaxes into the mattress.

 

He sits back then, scoots down until he’s perched on Lucifer’s thighs, and he takes a moment to lean forward, dick rubbing along Lucifer’s, if only to appease him enough to hold him at bay for a time.  He straightens soon enough, though, and then his hands are splayed over Lucifer’s ribs, feeling him breathe, waiting for him to succumb.  When he’s satisfied, he bends down to kiss along his collarbone until he meets the point where the two come together, and he sucks the skin in between his teeth, works it until Lucifer gasps and tugs at Sam’s hair, legs spreading wider and almost unbalancing him.  The skin is flushed and angry-looking when he pulls away, but that only spurs him on.  He wants to see himself all over Lucifer’s body, wants to see where he touched him, where he marked him.

 

So he trails kisses up along the line of his bone, bites his shoulder, nibbles up along his neck until he sucks a mark on his jaw, and then continues up to his ear, traces the curve of it with his tongue, tugs at his lobe until Lucifer is suddenly shifting, one hand coming up to curl around Sam’s bicep, asking.  Sam goes, moves until he’s in his line of sight, and Lucifer blinks, wets his lips slowly, but it’s not something meant to curl arousal in Sam; it’s thoughtful, curious, and Sam waits, lets him form the words in his head.

 

Finally, he reaches up, and he kisses Sam slow, like he’s tasting him for the first time.  When he pulls back, he lets his head drop back onto the mattress, and Sam’s eyes widen as he feels Lucifer’s legs spread wider beneath him.  He opens his mouth to ask, but Lucifer shakes his head and puts a finger over Sam’s mouth.  He waits, and Lucifer pulls his finger back, ethereal blue eyes holding Sam in place.  “I want you inside of me,” Lucifer says finally, and Sam moans, dropping his forehead against Lucifer’s.  It’s not something he’s ever thought of doing, mostly because he’s always been more than pleased by the feeling of Lucifer’s heavy cock in his ass, but he has to admit, thinking of it now, with Lucifer asking, he doesn’t know if he could ever refuse.

 

“Yeah,” Sam says, “Okay.”  He takes a moment to breathe and nod before he pulls back, sits and looks down at his angel.  “How do you want it?”  Lucifer pulls his bottom lip in to worry it with his teeth for a moment before pushing up with his left hip, and Sam follows the movement, sliding off him and settling on his side.  Lucifer turns as well, his back to Sam, and yeah—that’s all sorts of awesome.  Sam reaches a hand forward to follow the plane of Lucifer’s body, following the dip of his side, the swell of his ass, and the descent of his thigh before he tracks back up to pull at his shoulder.  When Lucifer’s eyes flash to him, Sam asks, “Are you sure?”

 

“Please,” Lucifer whispers, and Sam nods again, rolls over until he can reach his bag between the two beds.  He finds the lube in there, and then he’s back on his side, pushing up on one elbow, his fingers dancing down Lucifer’s spine, watching the goosebumps that raise on his skin before he uncaps the bottle and coats the fingers of his left hand.  At the first touch of Sam’s lubed fingers against his ass, Lucifer sucks in a breath and chokes back his groan because then Sam is rubbing a finger over his entrance.

 

Lucifer is easy to stretch, and Sam suspects that’s because he helps, grace leaking out between them, invisible but warming the air.  When he’s three fingers deep and scissoring, though, Lucifer is a mess, pushing down on his hand, ass clenching spasmodically.  When he replaces his fingers with his cock, aching and leaking, Lucifer cries out, nails scratching over his own stomach, and Sam pulls him close, their bodies flush together.  He curls his arm around Lucifer, forearm braced against his chest, and Lucifer tangles their fingers together, fits his head in the groove between Sam’s head and shoulder as Sam presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along his angel’s neck and shoulder.

 

They move together slowly, Sam taking care to find his prostate and rub over it on every easy thrust, filling and stretching his angel.  Lucifer’s hand moves over his own cock in a matching rhythm, teasing occasionally at the head, his thumb pressing in against the slit, and Sam marvels at how well he’s taught the devil sex and lust.

 

The door opens just as Sam’s picking up the pace, breathing harsh and shallow into Lucifer’s neck, but he stills immediately at Dean’s voice.  “Dean, wait,” he hears Castiel say, and his brother almost comes around the bend, but he turns his head at the last second, and there’s a little shuffling and a swear word before the door closes again.

 

“Sam,” Lucifer says, but Sam just shushes him with a kiss.  He untangles their hands and instead moves to the one on Lucifer’s dick, curling their fingers together and speeding his strokes until Lucifer is gasping, Sam’s cock barely leaving the tight heat of his ass as he chases his release.

 

“God— _fuck_ ,” Sam groans, pressing his forehead against Lucifer’s shoulder as his thighs tense and Lucifer presses back harder into him.  “ _Lucifer_.”

 

“ _Sam_ ,” Lucifer moans, his left leg moving suddenly, and— _oh fuck_ , that’s good, his leg bent at the knee, foot settling behind Sam, that’s such a good angle, and Sam bites the meat of his shoulder, leaves his mark there as he thrusts in harder, his cock throbbing until he’s coming in long pulses, filling his angel.  Lucifer follows after him, hand squeezing along the base, fingers still tangled in Sam’s, and then Sam takes over, pulling up and sliding his fingernail along the slit so that Lucifer shouts and comes, cock shuddering in their hands as he works himself through it, whole body coiled tight and ass still clenched around Sam.

 

Finally, though, he gasps and lets his hand drop away, and they both breathe in silence until Sam groans and pulls away from Lucifer’s body, slipping out of him.  Lucifer makes a soft noise, a shudder running through him, and Sam pauses on his way to his mouth to kiss his shoulder, red, raw, and bruising from where Sam bit it.  They kiss long and slow for a few minutes before Sam falls onto his back and Lucifer flicks a few lazy fingers through the air.  He turns carefully, settling in the circle of Sam’s arms, and they stay like that for a moment or two until Sam sighs and presses a firm kiss to his forehead.  “Our brothers are waiting outside,” he says, and Lucifer make a noncommittal noise and tries to snuggle deeper against Sam, but the hunter just sighs and detangles himself from around his angel.

 

Once out of bed, he finds a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, slips into those, and then throws Lucifer a pair of sweats, which he pulls on as Sam goes to open the door.  Dean gives him a look when he steps over the threshold.  “Everything better?” his brother asks, to his surprise.

 

“Yeah.  Sorry; we should have watched the time,” he says, but Dean’s waving him away.

 

“It’s cool.  We would have brought back food, but uh—” he breaks off suddenly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck, and it’s then that Sam notices the way Castiel’s shirt collar is a little skewed, the bottom coming out from his jeans.  Even though he doesn’t do the whole suit and trench coat combo anymore, and hasn’t for some time, he still always looks nicer than the rest of them.  Sam rolls his eyes and steps back into the room, looking around the bend of the wall to find Lucifer pulling on a pair of jeans, the sweatpants abandoned on the bed.

 

“Stop eavesdropping,” Sam accuses, and Lucifer just smirks.

 

“I wasn’t, actually,” he says, “Cas very politely asked if we could go anywhere else so that he could fuck your brother.”

 

“He did not use those words,” Sam says, disbelieving.

 

“No, he did not, but I did, and you love when I swear,” he says, looking pointedly down at Sam’s jeans, which are little bit tighter, and Sam sighs; he honestly doesn’t know how he manages to do that.  Lucifer dresses quickly, and they grab jackets on the way because it’s raining.  Sam makes a lewd comment that makes Dean glare at him, but then Cas’ hands are doing things Sam really doesn’t want to see, and they quickly disappear, heading for the Impala.

 

“Wanna go on a date?” Sam asks, and Lucifer smiles as they get inside.  He nods, and so Sam pulls out and makes for the same restaurant Cas and Dean went to.

 

\--

 

_April 18, 2012._

It ends up being a witch that does it.

 

There’s three of them, actually, and their leader is stronger than any they’ve encountered before, so the angels are dealing with her while Dean and Sam fend off the other two.  It’s difficult because they’re still strong, and, even when the noise dies down behind them where the angels were fighting, they still don’t come to their aid.  It’s only when one of them is dead and the other has Dean in a chokehold, Sam gasping on the ground a few yards away that Lucifer appears and that’s the end of that.  When she’s crumpled on the floor, Lucifer pulls on Dean’s elbow, steering him away.  “Dean,” he says urgently when the older brother doesn’t move, confused, but Lucifer putting all his attention on him is enough to get him moving, and he follows him over to where Lucifer has stashed Castiel, who is barely breathing and unconscious.

 

Sam can feel everything before Lucifer even opens his mouth, and he’s already ready to answer, “Take Dean and Cas back.  I’ll be fine with the car.”

 

“Are you sure?” Lucifer asks, frowning.

 

“Just go.”

 

Surprisingly, Lucifer doesn’t argue any further, but instead takes Dean’s wrist after he’s heaved Castiel up and is supporting him with Dean.  They’re gone in a flutter of wings, and so Sam quickly retraces their steps back to where the Impala is parked, sliding into the drivers’ seat and racing back to the motel.  By the time he gets back, Lucifer is outside, sitting quietly against the wall, and the door is ajar slightly.  Sam carefully parks and comes over to him, but Lucifer doesn’t get up.  Sam sits next to him, leaning their shoulders together.  Neither says anything for a very long couple of minutes until Lucifer breaks the silence, “I want to go home.”  Sam looks over at him, brow furrowed, “So does Dean.  I talked to him about it while Castiel was resting.  I don’t want to fight anymore.  My _wings_ , Sam—” he breaks off, and Sam’s throat clicks when he swallows.  He moves so that he can curl his arms around Lucifer and hold him close.

 

“I think we’ve been done hunting on the road for a while and just weren’t ready to admit it,” Sam mumbles, and Lucifer surprises him by chuckling softly.

 

“Damn apocalypse,” he mutters, and Sam can’t hold in the belly-aching laughter that bursts out of him.  Lucifer just smiles and buries it in Sam’s neck.

 

\--

 

_April 20, 2012._

 

They decide to make a road trip out of it, which turns out to be a stupid idea, because hello, angels.  Dean wants to teach Castiel to drive, and Lucifer thinks the whole notion is just idiotic, and then they almost end up in a ditch, and Dean decides that just because he’s infinitely older than Dean doesn’t give him the right to fuck with Dean’s heart.  Which of course then leads to Dean blowing Cas in the backseat as an apology when they pull over for a break, and, when Sam complains, Dean just tells him to fuck off for fifteen minutes.  They parked somewhere out of sight anyway because they don’t need gas, and so Sam decides he’s going to take his fifteen minutes and turn it into lunch and a bookstore, which will piss Dean off, but that’s his point anyway.

 

The bookstore comes first because he figures he’ll be nice and wait for the stupid horny teenagers in the back of the car to finish up in time for lunch, and it occurs to him almost too late how very much like his and Lucifer’s first outing this is.  He’s just looking up from the back of a book when Lucifer comes around the aisle and stops just before Sam, looking up from his own book and holding it up.  “This is fiction,” he tells Sam, who just laughs and leans forward to kiss him softly.

 

“Yes, it is,” he says before plucking the book out of the devil’s hands and looking it over, “A Game of Thrones?” he asks.

 

“There are five books currently in publication,” he says, and Sam blinks when Lucifer takes _Sam’s_ phone out of his pocket.  There’s a wiki page up with the series title on the top, and Sam takes it, still trying to figure out when Lucifer stole his phone, and he looks at the page before returning his gaze to Lucifer.  When he arches an eyebrow, the angel actually pouts, and so Sam laughs softly and kisses him again.

 

“How about the first two?” he asks, and that seems okay enough because Lucifer shrugs and goes back down the aisle again.  They leave with their new purchases to find Dean and Cas loitering about down the street, checking out the dinner across the way, so they get a booth and order, Lucifer sitting closer than normal with his leg pressed along the length of Sam’s and his side flush with Sam’s.  “Everything okay?” Sam asks, draping his arm around the back of the booth before he drops a kiss on Lucifer’s temple.

 

“I love you,” Lucifer says quietly, and Sam smiles, kissing him again.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

When their food comes, he slides away enough that they can eat comfortably, and they all settle into an easy chatter that ends in milkshakes and a brochure to Six Flags in Illinois.  To Dean’s utter amazement, Sam doesn’t pull the _it’s so out of the way_ face, but instead looks over his brother’s shoulder as he shows it to Castiel.  “It’s only a few hours off our road, we could make a thing out of it.”  That stops Dean dead in his tracks, and he turns, frowning at Sam.  “Like a vacation,” Sam says.

 

“A vacation?” Dean repeats, and Sam nods.

 

“Yeah, go all out.”

 

“A vacation?” Dean says again, and this time Sam laughs at him.

 

“Your stupid is showing, Dean.”

 

“A vacation would be fun,” Cas speaks up, “And this place sounds like it would be enjoyable,” he adds, taking the brochure from the dumbstruck Dean.  Lucifer holds out his hand for it, and Castiel gives it over before pulling Dean back into motion again.  They continue to talk about it until they’re settled in the Impala again, and Dean’s at the wheel.

 

“A vacation,” he says for a last time, “What the hell, let’s do it.”  And so it’s settled.

 

\--

 

_April 23, 2012._

When they check into their _hotel_ rooms, _plural_ , it’s all kinds of awesome.  It’s a half hour drive from the amusement park, but they aren’t really planning to do much the first few days anyway.  They have adjoining rooms, and they hang out in Dean and Cas’ room for much of the day until the afternoon is waning into darkness, and Sam and Lucifer retreat to their room, closing the adjoining door behind them.  After that, it’s two days of doing absolutely nothing beyond the necessities, as well as occasionally checking up on each other and having lots of sex.

 

Dean and Sam both start to go a little stir crazy on the morning of the third day, though, and so they head out in the Impala to buy passes for the day.  It’s only once they’re inside and the two angels are looking around in curious confusion that the brothers realize just how entertaining this is going to be.

 

Sam wanders off to grab a map, and, when he returns, Dean is pointing something out and making a menacing face, so Sam slaps his arm and steals his attention so they can look over the map.  “Start simple, Cas is looking uneasy,” he mumbles, low enough that Cas won’t hear him, and Sam nods.

 

“Sky Trek Tower?  That’s not even really a ride, should be fun, get them settled with their surroundings?”

 

“Yeah, then maybe a couple big boy ones and lunch?”

 

Sam nods, already folding up the map again, and they return to their respective angels, taking their hands.  Lucifer’s thumb strokes over the back of Sam’s hand as they walk, and he’s silent for a moment before he speaks, “Castiel said these places are used for entertainment.  They look like the torture devices the demons used in Hell.”  Sam laughs at this, and Lucifer looks over at him, one eyebrow quirked.

 

“They are fun,” Sam says, “Just wait.  You’ll see.  It’s not as those any of those torture devices could hurt you anyway,” he adds, if only to stroke Lucifer’s ego and watch him puff up a little, grinning smugly.  As they approached the Tower, Castiel cranes his neck up to stare up its length, but Lucifer merely gives it a small glance and continues onward.  That his fingers dig a little in Sam’s hand is something the hunter chooses not to comment on.  Once they’re buckled in and heading upward, Lucifer leans forward a little, looking over, and he frowns, thumb rubbing over Sam’s hand again.  Sam squeezes instead of speaking, and Lucifer relaxes slightly, pulling in his bottom lip to nibble at it.  Cas is overjoyed by the height, staring around in awe and pointing out things excitedly to Dean.  It isn’t long before they’re on ground level again, and Cas makes this soft little face that has Dean mumbling about getting back in line, and Sam just smiles and makes up some lame excuses about not feeling comfortable with the height.  The look of gratitude he receives from his archangel is more than worth Dean’s eye roll and grumble about _him_ hating planes and Sam being a bitch.

 

“Thank you,” Lucifer mumbles as they find a seat on a nearby bench, and Sam shrugs, detangling their hands to drop his arm along the back of the bench, fingers ghosting between Lucifer’s shoulder blades.  Lucifer curls a hand around Sam’s thigh, just resting there lightly, thumb occasionally sweeping in slow, soft movements.  “I don’t like being constrained that high up,” he finally admits, and Sam nods.  He can understand that, can imagine Lucifer thinking of Michael and Raphael, and Heaven and Hell.

 

“It’s okay,” Sam whispers, leaning over to press a kiss to his temple, “Do you still want to try the other rides?”

  
“Yes,” Lucifer says, determined, and Sam smiles.

 

They wait there for Dean and Cas to return, the latter still looking quite enthralled by the Tower, but Dean steadfastly refuses him another go in favor of the rides labeled moderate.  They work their way through the amusement park, and it turns out that Lucifer is something of a rollercoaster junky, and he even seems to like the spinning rides that Cas and Sam hate vehemently, so there are moments of cross-bonding that Sam is definitely glad for.  After the first spinning one, Dean and Lucifer return laughing and chatting like old friends, and it makes Sam smile widely.

 

When they break for lunch, the angels are relentless in their chatter, and they steal the map to go over it with each other, immediately picking out an intense-rated ride labeled Demon.  Dean almost chokes on his soda from laughing.  The rest of the day goes over similarly until Sam and Dean are dragging their feet, and the sky is full of stars, the park all lit up and beautiful.  They hit a restaurant for dinner, and then they’re back to the hotel to crash for the night before another day of adventure the following morning.

 

They hit the road a week after they arrived, get a call from Bobby about a group of killings in Wisconsin, spend a few days there hunting a werewolf, and then they’re making the final journey home.  And, as they pull down the dirt road, and the familiar house comes into view, they can see Michael lounging on the beach, Gabriel diving into the water with his white wings tucked close to his body, and Sam can’t help but smile as Lucifer makes a little noise of impatience and excitement, nearly bolting out of the car as Dean parks it.  He jogs over to join his brothers, and even Castiel looks interested, taking Dean’s hand and tugging him away.  Sam stays by the car for a moment, just looking at them, at his family, and it occurs to him suddenly.

 

Home isn’t _just_ his brother and the Impala anymore, it’s so much larger, it’s Dean, it’s the Impala, it’s Lucifer, it’s Cas, it’s this beautiful house on the lake, and it’s even Gabriel and Michael, it’s everything he never thought he could have and everything he always wanted, and it’s still so much better than any of his hopeful dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. So, it’s—been a long time. And I don’t really have any good excuses. Except for, well—my Supernatural muse kind of left me for a while in favor of my Avengers one returning, though there was a large block in between those two instances in which I was rewriting my first novel for the third time (I know, I’m ridiculous), but then that goddamn finale, gods was it good, and I just had to get back in. Especially because it looks like my Avengers muse is going to flop around for a couple of weeks before I can get something else decent out. But, here I am, and look at that, the wait wasn’t even really worth it. I’m really sorry for the short length; I don’t know what was happening, it just kept trying to end, and I gave up trying to make it longer after a little while because, honestly, I had the last sentence written at 15k words (though the tiny vacation thing was actually something I did want to do). And, I mean—I dunno. This feels like a timestamp or something to me, something I just wanted to write but never got to in the previous ones, and that’s why I think it’s so short; it’s just a little something, a little addition.
> 
> ANYWAY. You know what else sucks? That mix—like, I don’t even really totally agree with it anymore. (which you don’t even have a link for, here: [shenanigans](http://www.mediafire.com/download.php?eu53ae17c6nl5se)) I dunno, I like it, but I think I might have changed it if I hadn’t already zipped the file and uploaded it to mediafire. I’ve just been listening to a lot of mellower music, and I wanted to work some of that in, but—what am I even saying, I do like the mix, my mellow music belongs with Bruce Banner. But hey, let’s ignore this paragraph pretty much, especially cos I have something way more interesting to say.
> 
> So. I’m probably shooting myself in the foot saying this, but—would anyone be interested in a destiel companion trilogy to these samifers? I’m not promising I’ll write it; I’m just curious. Other than that, look out for a cats fic soon that’s kind of incorporated into this series, hopefully other things (like the Lucifer/Michael I really need to crank out), and don’t forget to leave your thoughts on this one!/


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